


Into the Wild Blue Yonder

by slstevens



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slstevens/pseuds/slstevens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Are there any?" Bilbo asked.<br/>"What?"<br/>"Other wizards?"<br/>"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White. And then there are the two Blue Wizards... You know, I've quite forgotten their names."</p><p>Evelyn McNamara died at the ripe old age of ninety-two in our world and is expecting peace though she doesn't welcome it. A being across the void in a different world has other plans for her that seem much more entertaining. He asks her to take up a mantle of sea-blue robes and to fortify the east. How can a Tolkien enthusiast say no to a request like that?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Girl Cries and A Woman Dies

Disclaimer: I don't own all the Tolkien bits

 

“ Please reconsider Nana. They’ve found a donor. They can make you better.”

“ For what purpose? A few more years of creaking bones. No, I’ve had a long life, filled with love and happiness darling. How could I take such an opportunity from another? I am ready.” The hand I moved to cover hers was riddled with spots and laced with deep blue veins. It was an old hand, a hand that had seen over ninety years of memories, both good and bad. The young woman took a shaky breath as she raised tear filled eyes to meet my own.

“ I know. I know I’m being selfish, but you’re all I’ve got Nana.” It was said with the utmost sincerity, but was enough of a fallacy that I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“ Oh pish, my darling! I’m merely your eccentric spinster of a great aunt. You have an entire family who will see you through this. Never fear you will most certainly be just as loved.” I forced arthritic fingers to shakily stroke her cheek. It was such a simple gesture, but a nearly impossible feat for my broken-down body.

“ All they care about is things. Greedy vultures the lot of them. They don’t care about your stories or our adventures. They don’t get it. They think you’re crazy, but they just don’t see.”

" If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” A wry smile twisted my mouth; the familiar well loved text falling easily from my lips. The words seemed too bittersweet for her and more tears rose to hazel eyes as her fingers interlaced with my own. My bones ached at the pressure, but I allowed her the comfort without complaint.

“ Nana, they won’t be you.”

“ Charlotte, my darling child. I know my decision hurts you, but I can only beg that you will forgive me my weakness. .” The girl’s young mouth twisted into wane smile of her own.

“ The journey doesn't end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise. Who am I to keep you from your next adventure? Even if it is one I can’t follow you on. I’m going to miss you more than you’ll ever know Nana.” She leaned forward; her head tucking neatly into the crook of my neck as I brought my arms up to fully embrace her.

“ I know darling. I know. Would you do an old woman one final favor?” Charlotte nodded into my shoulder without raising her head from were it rested. “Would you go into the cupboard and bring me my book? You know the one.” She pulled away slowly, but swiftly rose to fetch the object in question. She grabbed the well-loved book from the armoire before returning to my bedside. I reached forward eagerly, ignoring the creaking bones that belayed my age. I sighed at the familiar weight in my hands. It had been a dear constant companion throughout my years and I found it was something I wished to hold until my last breath. “Thank you Charlotte. You ease an old woman’s mind.” I sighed as exhaustion overtook me. The medicine that the nurses had given me to ease the pain of my departing was clearly beginning to take hold. My great niece sensed the change immediately and her tears renewed.

“ I wanted to be strong, but now that it’s here I…I don’t want you to go.” Her voice cracked. I settled back gently into my bed, with my fingers curled around the edges of _The Hobbit_.

“ Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.” Another watery smile met my words. I laced our fingers once more and lifted her hand to my lips. “I will always be in your heart Charlotte. Never forget that I love you. But you must promise me something.”

“ Anything Nana.”

“ Promise me you will always plunge headlong into adventures. Promise me you will still wander without the fear of becoming lost. Finally, promise me that you will always know that you were my daughter in everything, but name.” I made no effort to fight the tears that had begun to well in my own eyes. I allowed them to tumble freely down my wrinkled cheeks. My body was ready to depart this world, but my spirit was not.

“ I promise, Nana. Always.” I nodded.

“ Good girl. Now I think it is time for me to rest my eyes. I love you.”

“ Of course Nana. I love you too. Sleep well.” Her words were little more than a choked sob, but they were enough. I lifted the book to rest above my heart as my eyes fluttered closed. I sighed deeply. I was ready for my next adventure. The world slipped away into silence and all that remained was a soft voice beckoning me into the darkness. Without looking back I pushed forth into the void and died leaving my own world behind me.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been really interested in the mythos that Tolkien has created so this story will incorporate quite a bit of the rich history of Tolkien's other works. I actually got this idea because of my curiosity about the Blue Wizards. They were bathed in such mystery that even Tolkien wasn't completely sure of their fate. I thought that was fascinating and my research sparked the bug that made me want to write this story. 
> 
> I will give a word of caution that this story will involve well loved characters, but not always in the ways or roles you would expect. The timing on when she shows up in Middle Earth I feel allows for the possibility of a rich and new storyline that stays true to the Tolkien we love, but isn't nearly as predictable.
> 
> I also purposely made Evelyn die of old age in our world because I wanted to get rid of the angst we normally see surrounding character from our world falling into Middle Earth. Evelyn is a somewhat unique perspective because she has the experience of a completely lived life and that wisdom she had gained will play a huge part in how she interacts with other characters as we progress further and further.


	2. A Wizard Falls and A God Calls

My face twisted at the light that seemed determined to slip between my lashes. A groan forced its way past my lips as I attempted to hide my face away from its persistent source. I inhaled deeply filling my nose and mouth with salt rich sand. I sat up abruptly, desperately trying to cough up the grains. My throat was rough as sandpaper.

“Here,” A pouch was forced into my hands and I raised it to my lips without a thought. I drank from it with a greedy fervor allowing it to sooth my aching throat. I finally allowed my eyes to flutter open. They took a moment to adjust to the blinding light that seemed to surround me. There was a silver-white shore of a vast sea; it’s water a crystalline cerulean. I shifted slightly to find the man who had handed me the sack of water sitting next to me. He was stunning and terrifying in his beauty. A soft gasp slipped from my lips at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” He cut a fearsome figure, with a golden bow strapped easily across his back and a great horn tucked against his thigh. He tilted his head slightly, taking me in with the amber eyes of a large predator.

“I go by many names. Which would you prefer?” His voice was as deep as the growl of a bear, but as light as a stag racing through the trees. It was disorienting. I settled to make myself more comfortable in the sand; I was dead. What did I have to fear?

“I suppose the name that would explain what you need with an old woman such as myself would suffice.” I did little to contain the smile in my voice. This was merely a new adventure in my eyes. He turned his torso now, piercing gaze appraising me.

“Perhaps not so old, I should think.” I laughed easily at the attempted flattery.

“Oh son, there’s no need to try to charm me. I know what I am and the years I have lived. I find no shame in them.” He didn’t respond. Instead his large hand gestured to the water’s edge that had been licking softly at my toes. I didn’t question his wave as I moved to kneel forward to look at my rippling reflection.

I sat back onto my heels stunned at the face that was looking back at me. The hair had lost any hint of silver. Instead it was restored to the bright brass color it had been in my youth. The skin that had become translucent and wrinkled beyond measure was now taut and rich with a flushed color in my cheeks. I raised a hand up in wonder to my face only to realize that there were no aches from the gesture, no pain. I was young again. I let out a whoop of joy as I leapt to my feet. I could have cried at their ready response to my call. I took off along the shore skipping and twirling as strength that I had lost to time coursed through my veins. I ran into the water, reveling in the cool crisp waves that gently broke against my shins. I was whole once more, my body no longer withered from life. This was heaven.

I raced back to where the man still sat, a small smile tugging gently at his lips. It softened his features remarkably. I slowed as I approached him, a wide grin pulling at my cheeks. I collapsed down beside him without a care in the world. I breathlessly turned to him.

“Is this heaven?” He finally seemed to relax, leaning back into the sand in a much more elegant pantomime of my own posture.

“It gladdens me that you find such joy in the gift of my beloved wife.”

“Your wife did this to me? How?” His lips pulled up further.

“It has been too long since I have traveled these lands. I had forgotten the tenacious curiosity of man. My wife is the keeper of youth and as such it is hers to bestow as she wills. She foresaw your task and felt that her gift would be of much aid to you. I did not disagree with her decision.”

“I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what task? I’m dead. What more can I do?” I wanted to repay the kindness that I couldn’t have even dreamed of.

“Death befell you in one life perhaps, but all lives fall to the will of Eru and I called upon him to allow me to ask a boon of you. It will be upon your will that your path forward is chosen.” I felt faint. Eru was a name that I had read on many an occasion.

“Who are you?” All of the joy that I had held from my young appearance was replaced by the weight of something I couldn’t quite understand. He swiftly rose from the shore, the sand falling easily from his clothing as he stood to his full height. I somehow remained silent as his appearance seemed to fall away and a creation of pure light in the vague shape of a man remained in its place.

“It was I who first found and named the Eldar upon their birth at Cuivienen, for my brethren had left these shores to their own devices. It was I who hunted the beasts of Melkor in the shadows and safeguarded the firstborn to Valinor. It was I who held these lands most dear and continued to walk them as light faded into darkness once more. Would you name me?”

“Oromë **”** The Great Rider. Huntsman of the Valar. It wasn’t even a question in my mind. I knew the works of Tolkien as if they were my children.

“Indeed. It gladdens me that you would cherish the tales of Ea as if they were of your own heart. I have need of such a spirit. Would you aid me child of another world?” The light faded away and the visage of the man returned. Though I could still make out the edges of something more that I had somehow missed before. The hint of something greater hidden away behind the veil of flesh.

“Name it.” The words were past my lips before my mind could catch up, but I felt an iron-will settle into my belly as I spoke them.

“I know of your great love for this world, Evelyn McNamara, and I would not twist such a force to my advantage, no matter how I would wish to. This is a choice that you must make with the entirety of your being for anything less shall have you fall to the very darkness I would ask you to fight. Yours would be but one of the many lives lost to such a fate. I would not have you take on such a burden so lightly.” I heeded the terrible power in his voice. This was not a decision to be made out of the fan-girlish delight that was pitching my emotions into frenzy. This was much more important than my want to see the world I had envisioned since my youth.

“I’m willing to listen then.” He nodded, keeping his face free of any emotion.

“Very well. During the Second Age upon the invasion of Eriador and the destruction of Eregion, The Twice-born Glorfindel was sent to aid the Peredhil Lord Elrond in the battle against the corrupted maia, Mairon. You would know him by his Noldorin name.”

“Sauron.” The words slipped past my lips. I listened enraptured as the sand of the shore began to rise above the water twisting into the scenes he was describing.

“Indeed. Upon the Numenorian ship that bore Glorfindel from Valinor, there were two istari given a much different task. The Blue Wizards, Alatar and Pallando. They were maiar of my own choosing and were enlisted to travel to the South and to the East in order to quell the influences of Sauron for it was I who knew the lands there best. With the rise of the Third Age, when the first shadow began to fall across the forest of Greenwood the Great, it was decided that the races of Arda were again in need of guidance. Three istari were sent. Curomo, claimed by Aulë, traveled separately from Olorin, chosen of Manwë and Varda, and Aiwendil, chosen of Yavanna. So the three Istari cloaked within the flesh of man and graced with all the weaknesses such would entail set forth unto Arda to aid in advising the leaders of the free people. This tale is one you are familiar with, yes?” I found myself nodding, unable to bring myself to break the spell the he wove with his words.

“Good. It is to Alatar and Pallando we must now look. Alatar, known as Morinehtar, and Pallando, known as Romestamo. Darkness-slayer and East-helper. They were my chosen, sent into the birthing grounds of the free people to destabilize those whom had been corrupted by the will of Melkor’s and his lieutenant. Alatar was sent to the southern lands and did his duty well. He remained true to his purpose and sought to weaken the kingdoms of the Haradrim and Corsairs, those that would side with Sauron. I could ask no more of him and I much await his return to Valinor.” There was a long silence that followed his words. I couldn’t bear it any longer.

“What happened to the other Blue Wizard, Pallando?” Oromë gazed out across the water, his eyes seeing something else entirely.

“In robes of sea-blue he set forth unto the lands of the East. For an age and a half he fought the influence of Sauron. It was after the formation of The Last Alliance of Elves and Men that his will began to waiver. He fell under the thrall of his own pride and sought to usurp the power left in the wake the downfall of Sauron. He formed cults in his own name. It was through his teachings that the Easterlings were able to assemble as a true force of power that was imperative to their invasion of Rohan and capture of Edoras. Their coordination was much differed from the disorder of the Southron legions of Harad and Umbar. He shall no longer sow such discord.” The words, though filled with steel, clearly grieved the man as he spoke. A heavy weight upon his soul.

“I…who stopped him?” Perhaps it was a cruel question to ask someone so clearly grieved, but I could feel that it was a necessary one. His eyes hardened and turned on me, the full measure of his power crushing my lungs and quelling my very soul.

“I am not Aulë. I will not abide a maiar of my choosing to fall to the dissonance of the darkness. It was upon my decree that Alatar was sent to resolve the disorder created by his brother in arms. Upon the shores of The Sea of Rhun a great battle took place with none to witness, save Ulmo and myself. Here Alatar threw down Pallando and ended his bid for tyranny.” A hand swept out to point across the shore where I finally noticed a crumpled pile of blue robes resting.

“Is that..?” I trailed off unsure of how to finish the question.

“You question if that is indeed the body of Pallando? Yes.” My eyes remained locked on the unmoving corpse.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I would have you finish the task that Pallando could not. I would have you fortify the East against the treacherous will of the deceiver.”

“I don’t understand. I’m not some great warrior. I have no accomplishments that would make me better at this then him. I’m just an old woman who loved a story.” I finally lifted my eyes to his. “Oromë…why me?”

“Upon the death of Pallando, Nienna left her Halls to the West and came to me for she could feel my grief from the furthest reaches of the world.” The sand moved until it took the form of a cloaked woman. Her shoulders wilted under the weight of some unseen burden and her eyes filled with unshed tears. She was beautiful, but it was a burdened beauty. Bittersweet.

“She asked why I so often chose my champions for their great deeds in combat and skill in the hunt. It was with no small amount of foolish pride that I told her of how I wished for those I chose to be as strong of will as the steel that they would wield. She cautioned that it was unwise to only search for such resolve in the heart of battle for the strength found in war was the strength of a weapon, unyielding and easily broken.” The woman made of sand reached out; opening her hands to reveal a small flame nestled within her grasp. I marveled at how precisely the sand mimicked the flickering of a real fire.

“She instead urged me to seek out a champion of a different nature. A flame that endures even in the most desolate darkness. A stream that flows regardless of the obstacles that would bar its path. A soul that cherished both grief and happiness, never placing one above the other. She prized hope and endurance above any other trait. Nienna, who would see past the Walls of the World saw such a light flickering across the Void and called to it. She placed the small flickering flame into a lantern fashioned by Aulë at her behest. With it she traveled across the sea and land to place that light into my hands. She told me that it held the strength that she felt I needed in order to succeed if I was but willing to nurture it.”

His eyes were unfocused as they stared out into the distance. For the briefest of moments I didn’t see Oromë, the Great Hunter of Morgoth’s dark creatures. Instead I saw my dear Charlotte, lost and grieving. I reached across the small distance between us and slipped my hand into his. I could feel the burn of his greatness against my skin, but I paid it little mind, as I held steady. Physical pain had been my constant companion for many years; I didn’t feel any need to shy from it now. His amber eyes found my own, a light of some understanding blooming within their depths. His overly large fingers curled around my own and we sat in silence for what could have been ages. It was I who eventually broke the quiet.

“So it was actually Nienna who brought me here?” The name rolled off of my tongue questioningly.

“Yes. It was she who pulled you across the Void, but it was I that appealed to the grace of Eru for the breath of life that would resurrect you once more. It is only now that I begin to understand what it was of you that called to her across such an desolate expanse.” I quirked a brow in question, but he seemed inclined to keep his secrets and merely shook his head. He rose easily from the shore and reached a hand down to pull me up as well. “Come. It is time for you to make your choice.”

He tucked my arm gently into the crook of his elbow and led me as if I were a highborn lady of some far off court over to the body of the fallen maia. My toes dug into the sand as we walked, relishing in the feeling of it squishing about. It had been much too long since I had been able to walk so easily across a shore. We reached Pallando too soon for my liking.  Oromë urged me forward and I found myself crouching next to the body of the wizard.

The first thing that struck me was how young he seemed. I had imagined that he would be aged like Gandalf or Saruman, but instead he had the face of a middle-age man at the absolute oldest. He still had a beard, but it was cropped short with a long mustache that trailed to his chest. He had a very oriental feel to him that surprised me.  

“Why is he so young?” I turned to the vala.

“The istari took the guise of aged men for it was the form that allowed their wisdom to be heard. In his hubris it would seem that Pallando sought the charisma of youth to aid him in his goals. He strayed so far.” The words were little more than a murmur, but I heard them nonetheless. My deep well of elderly advice was easily called upon.

“There’s no shame in still loving him.” Golden eyes pierced my soul. “Just because he betrayed you doesn’t mean that your love for him was any less real or that his death would bring you any less pain. We can’t help who we love.”

“Yes. I long questioned the nature that would allow Nienna to forgive the duplicity of Melkor with such ease, though now I find my own heart breaking faith with me.” I reached out a comforting hand, which was grasped gently by the Vala.

“I just wanted you to know that grief is never wrong. Not enough people say it, but it’s true.” A sad smile graced his strong lips and I was again struck by his otherworldly nature.

“It gladdens my heart to have met you Evelyn McNamara. No matter what your choice shall be, please know this.” I couldn’t help but beam at him.

“I lived a whole life. I would hope that it would be good for something.”

“Indeed. The wisdom of a life lived to its end is often undervalued by those whom see no end to their own.”

“Whelp you either get busy living or you get busy dying. It definitely lights a fire under the rear to go for the gusto.” His gaze took on a bemused quality and his lips pursed lightly.

“Indeed. Alas we have again digressed and time is not on our side. I do not mean to rush you in your choice, however there is nothing for it. You must choose Evelyn McNamara. Will you accept to take up the mantel of the Blue Wizard?” I paused. It was such a large task. _Fortify the East._

“When are we exactly?’

“It would be the year 2760 of the Third Age.”

“Is that before or after Smaug kicks the snot out of Erebor? I may have a mind like a steel trap, but there were an awful lot of dates to remember.” I wondered which answer I hoped for more.

“The dragon Smaug lays siege to the Kingdom under the Mountain in the year of 2770 of the Third Age.”

“Ten years, if that. Ten years to stop the greatest calamity to hit the dwarves since Durin’s Bane. Talk about one hell of deadline.”

“Erebor must fall.” I sucked in my breath.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” His unblinking eyes did not waiver at the sharp bite of my tone. My impetuous nature, once mellowed by age, seemed to be returning in full force.

“I mean what I say. Erebor must fall to the might of Smaug. The deed has been woven by Vairë and so it shall remain.”

“Then why am I even here?”

“You are here to fortify-“

“Yes, fortify the East. I got that part. I mean, why now? Why bring me to this point in time? Why bring me before a massacre I could prevent and forbid me from stopping it? From helping?” Oromë remained indifferent to my anger. It was in this moment that I could feel the truth of his inhuman nature and it made my stomach churn.

“The fall of Erebor is woven and cannot be changed. However the fate of the dwarrow is not set in stone.” He was staring me down and I felt like there was something I was missing. A dread flickered briefly in my stomach.

“Oromë, what would happen if I said no?”

“You would be returned to resting place of souls in your world.”

“What happens if I die here? I mean I hope I don’t, but it’s always good to know what I’m getting myself into.”

“Your soul would be of this world and you would travel to the Halls of Mandos to rest.” I hadn’t expected that.

“So I wouldn’t return to the resting place of my world? I wouldn’t see Charlotte again?” His eyes turned slightly sad at the disbelieving softness of my voice.

“It brings me great sorrow that you would not be reunited with your loved ones, though there is no way to change it. Once you make the choice to become a part of this world it cannot be reversed. It is a request of the utmost selfishness that I make.”

“I…I see.” There was tightness in my chest that I found myself rubbing to try and dissipate. “So I can’t stop Smaug. That right?” He nodded his head gravely. “But you’re not forbidding me from helping them out after.” He didn’t nod, but he also didn’t say no and that was enough for me. If I could save even one more life it would be worth it. Smaug had not been the only perils that had faced the homeless dwarves. They would need a safe haven. I could do that. I would be giving up my Charlotte, but I knew she would make the same decision if she were in my shoes.

I reached forward and grabbed his hand to give it a resolute shake. “Done. Looks like you’ve got yourself a Blue Wizard.” I forced a cheer into my face that I didn’t quite feel. It helped to assuage the tiny pinpricks of guilt. “Any bets on how long its takes me to get the whole continent into a tizzy?”

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. A Woman's Trial and A God's Smile

 

It was a surreal feeling, putting on the robes of a dead man. I hadn’t really thought about it before I accepted my new position, but it hit home quite quickly as Oromë crouched down to strip the corpse of it’s clothing. I could have protested. However the ritualistic feeling of the actions held my tongue silent.

He took great care in removing the robes. His strong hands were gentle and nimble. He was paying his last respects to the soul of an old friend. I averted my gaze to allow for the illusion of privacy. I didn’t look back up until a hand rested lightly against my cheek. His amber eyes were strong again as he pushed the sea blue cloth into my hands.

“To you I give these robes Evelyn McNamara, may they bring you better fortune than that of your predecessor.”

“Just Evelyn is fine. My full name always made me feel silly.” He merely nodded a head in acquiescence. I realized in that moment, that I had been naked the whole time we had been on the beach. The chill of the breeze began to nip at my skin and I found myself shivering. I donned the robes with as much haste as I could, doing my best to forget that they had come from a dead man.

Somehow they fit me comfortably. The cloth was a material I had never felt before. It was an odd combination of soft, but hardy, and incredibly warming against the elements. I assumed that there was magical quality to it. I tied the robes with a leather belt that Oromë handed me from his own waist. It was intricately carved depicting the hunt of a great beast I didn’t recognize.

“Thank you.” The Great Rider merely nodded again, choosing to keep his silence. The light feeling I had initially felt upon my arrival had dissipated greatly as the day progressed. I did my best to keep moving forward so I wouldn’t fall to the sadness that crept at the edges of my heart. My stomach grumbled loudly, disturbing the quiet. I chuckled softly at the ire of my hunger. Oromë’s lips quirked upward as well.

“Such a growl I have not heard since my days of hunting the creatures of Melkor’s creation. It does us well that none are nearby for I fear they would have fled in terror at such a sound. Come, you are in need of food and drink.” There was winsomeness to him as he pulled my hand back into his elbow and led me along the shore again. I couldn’t really tell where we were heading, but I had little doubt that I would be safe with the vala. I marveled at the beauty of the sun setting to the left of us. It painted the skies with splashes of red and pinks that highlighted the great plains of golden grass. We continued on our path as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and the darkness cloaked the land.

Oromë seemed to shine in the blackness. The edges of him blurred and I found my heart racing in both excitement and fear of him. I could understand why the young elves had been so afraid upon their first meeting.  I think a larger part than I wanted to admit was scared of him as well.

 

I saw the glow of a fire up ahead. As we grew closer I could hear the faint notes of a song being plucked on a harp. The music was somber and bleak and I found tears welling in my eyes without understanding why. It was unlike anything I had ever heard before. I could almost feel my ears bleeding, not because it was harsh in any way, but because it was almost too beautiful for me to bear.

“This song…?” Tears fell freely as I wrapped my arms around myself in the vain hopes of quelling the deep well of anguish that had risen from nowhere.

“The Noldolantë has brought many to their knees in grief. Feel no shame in your tears Evelyn. Elven music is much differed from the songs of men. The lays of the eldar were infused with both emotion and memory. Only one held this ability with greater skill than Maglor, son of Fëanor. “

As we drew nearer I could make out the voice of someone singing, but I couldn’t begin to tell if it was a male or female. The words wove together the tale of Alqualondë. The voice faded away and I found myself no longer on the shores of the Rhûn, but instead I was upon the coast of Aman. I could feel the fervor of betrayal and rebellion that had spurred Fëanor and the Noldorins from Valinor.

The crushing pressure of the oath that would lead to a total of three kinslayings burned within me driving me forth. A riptide I was helpless to escape even if I had wished to. The fever pitch of emotions raged without rest until they boiled forth at the refusal of the Teleri. I could see the scores of great white boats, their craftsmanship unmatched, lining the shore. Their decks once pristine were now slick with the deep ruby of freshly spilt blood.

I could feel a blade in my hand slicing through bone and sinew as I cut through the poorly armored Telerin, whom had only their bows and rocks, standing in the path of our glorious quest. The screams mixed together in a horrifying song. More voices joined the chorus. A flood of death and blood rose up higher and higher until I felt I would drown in it. Suddenly there was a silence and my heart pitched as my body froze. My throat was constricting as the ground opened up beneath me and I was engulfed by an ocean of regret.

My eyes cleared of the haze of bloodlust and as I looked down all I could see were layers of gore coating my hands. I scrubbed away at the blood of my kin only to find two terrible burns, each the size of a gem, underneath. I screamed, my throat raw, at the pointlessness of my oath. I raged at my father for creating it and at my nature for swearing it. I wept for my brother’s and those that we had so easily slain. I sang my lament for it was all I had left.

A voice called pulling back against the riptide of despair. My eyes opened and I was again on the beach with Oromë. I was sitting down as he removed a hand from my temple. The music had stopped and the only noise was the gentle whisper of the water.

“What happened?” My words were shaky and I was trembling in the sand.

“Be still Evelyn. I had great fear that you had walked where I could not reach. Your fëa departed from your body caught in the memory of the Noldolantë. The grief of Maglor is an overwhelming force when one is not adequately prepared for it. The newness of your creation only worsened matters.”

“I…” My head still felt like it was swimming. “Wow. Will I feel that every time I hear that song?”

“Nay.  I have placed protections upon your mind from becoming entrapped hereafter.” I nodded absentmindedly at him. My eyes were fixed upon the figure standing at the edge of the light. His back was to the flames so his face was obscured, but I could see a harp held listlessly at his side.

For the second time that day Oromë helped me to my feet. My legs still held a tremor that refused to leave, but age had granted me the skill of ignoring the protestations of my body in favor of the more important tasks before me. He walked me over to the fire. The elf, Maglor, shied away from us and moved to the other side of the flames and I was able to make out his features.

He was enthralling in a different way to Oromë. Similarly to the vala there was the beauty of a great predator, an alien grandeur that was best admired from a distance. However the most striking impression I received from him was that he was barely there. My eyes told me quite clearly that he was solid against the darkness behind him, but it niggled at my mind.

Somehow there was translucence to him, the feeling of someone who didn’t quite exist in this plane. He seemed to carry a faded quality. Not in his looks, for his clothing was clean and well cared for and in his hands was the beautifully crafted harp, though it had clearly been lovingly repaired and showed its age.  No, the dimness was in his eyes. A golden circlet held back dark hair and his eyes shone blue in the darkness, but then again they barely glowed at all. I bowed my head slightly in his direction.

“I’m afraid that we haven’t be formerly introduced. I’m Evelyn, Evelyn McNamara.” I didn’t want to presume his identity, though Oromë had made it obvious who the elf was.

“Do not trouble yourself Evelyn. You will find nothing of consequence from a son of the accursed Fëanor. He is here to repay a debt that can never be fully repaid, nothing more.” I watched the elda stare stonily into the fire, no emotion crossing his face at the casual insults of the vala.

I was distracted as Oromë moved to pull a spit of roasting meat from above the licking flames and I found my mouth watering at the smell. He expertly removed the unfortunate creature, a rabbit I think, from the wooden stick and handed me a half of the meat. He took the other half for himself. I took it tenderly, aware of how the flesh was already pulling from the bones. I tugged a small piece off and popped it into my mouth. The liquid fat ran down my hand. I savored the morsel, letting it rest on my tongue and taking in the various flavors. It was less gamey than I had expected with a lean taste that reminded me vaguely of chicken. There was no seasoning, but it was no less delicious after a day of not eating.

 

We three sat in silence as the fire cracked and popped. If it had been an easy silence between friends I might have been able to enjoy it, but there was a tension in it that was beginning to make me squirm. I debated over how to broach the quiet and I decided bluntness would be the most effective weapon here. I adopted the face I used when adults were acting like children. It was a stern look with a wry twist that I found particularly useful.

“Alright boys, I haven’t traveled across a void and into a new world to deal with the same old bullshit that ran rampant in my homeland. What’s got your panties in a bunch?” The twin looks of incredulousness almost made me laugh, but I thankfully kept it together. “Well, I’m waiting. Maglor?” I turned to face the dark haired elf. He held my gaze, seeming to stare through me for the briefest of moments. I could only assume he was seeing someone else. His eyes cleared and he was back with us. Maybe I had been too blunt. With a sheepish grin lighting upon my lips I responded to him.

“I forget that idioms from my home might not translate here. Forgive me. I’ll try again. Why does there seem to be uneasiness within our camp. Is it about my poor reaction to Maglor’s music? I hold no ill will. There is beauty in grief and I am stronger for having been witness to his.” I paused for dramatic effect before I let loose. “Or perhaps it’s because his family was led on a killing spree across Arda by a poorly sworn oath that was only necessary because the Valar were incompetent in controlling the treachery of one of their own.” Boom.

I think it was the first time Oromë had been insulted by a lesser being because his face had a most peculiar blend of anger and mystification on it. The son of Fëanor had an equally perplexing response. He did not show rage or even surprise. Instead his features had morphed into a resigned expression of acceptance at the words. That reaction broke my heart. He had said much worse to himself in the long nights of wandering the darkness, of this I was sure.

“You take great liberties with your foolish words Evelyn McNamara.” I favored Oromë with a cool expression.

“I merely speak the facts. Are most so in awe of you that they find no need for facts, just sweet nothings of a more complimentary nature?”

“There is much you do not know of the events that occurred. You have no scope of the foolishness, greed, and pride that led to the downfall of the House of Fëanor. The betrayals that they committed of those that once call them friend.” I leaned forward resting my elbows easily on my knees.

“I think you underestimate my knowledge. In fact, of the three of us I am the most objective in my views. I was neither aided nor betrayed. I have no dogs in this fight. Therefore I can see both sides equally. I have no doubt that foolishness, greed, and pride played a rather large role in the travesties that occurred. I’m merely saying that these traits did not belong solely to Fëanor and his sons.” I marveled as his flesh began to slip away and light bled through the cracks that were forming. The glow grew into a burning flare as he stood fully.

“You would dare to impugn the honor of the highest of the Ainur, the chosen of Eru? To implicate my brethren and myself amongst the crimes committed by Fëanor and his kin? You would speak ill of those who gave you life in this new world?” His words boomed not only in my ears, but also within my mind and I found myself cringing in pain. Hot damn this was getting out of hand real quick. I opened my mouth to apologize, but only one word came out.

“Yes.” It was soft, but strong. Dead silence fell throughout the clearing. No animals called out in the night. Even the wind seemed to still as I stood facing the might of a god. “ If you would hold Maglor accountable for his actions and those of his kin, then it falls that you should be accountable for your own and those of **your** kin. Melkor was one of your own. His crimes fall at your feet. When he was paroled for his crimes and given the necessary leash to commit new acts of evil, by the will of the Aratar. When he was able to leave the shores of Aman and steal the Silmarils from Finwe, thus starting the whole bloody endeavor. When he was able to do these things it fell upon you, the chosen of Eru, to stop him. Without Melkor and his treachery, without the Valar and their leniency, there would be no oath. There would have been no rebellion and no bloodshed.” I paused for the weight of my words to hit home before I continued.

“So yes, perhaps I do impugn your honor, but I do so justly.” I struggled to hold his gaze, like staring into the sun. His body was held rigidly still. A great wind began to pull at my robes with the vala acting as the eye of the storm. The gales pushed me backwards until I felt the lick of water at my heels. Oromë followed and I was had to squint my eyes as sand pulled up into the vortex, the grit grinding into my skin. Still I stood, refusing to flinch away from the immortal’s rage. Oromë began to speak, but now his voice held the power of a trumpeting horn blaring into the night.

“Recant your foolish words or face the judgment of my blade. I will not stand for the utterance of such slanders upon myself or my siblings.” I trembled at the oath, but held firm. I had not been one to shy from hypocrisy in my old life and I certainly wouldn’t back down from it here. My body had withered into disuse with years of constant pain until finally death had been a blessing. What did I have to fear from the quick painless end of a blade?

“I can’t recant the truth.” Where his voice had been loud, mine was quiet. The squeak of a mouse before the might of a lion. I braced as he drew from a sheath at his hip. He moved forward with his sword held out in front of him. He stopped as the blazing construct came to rest against my breast. My heart was beating wildly, but I schooled my body and remained still. I focused on the lapping of the water now up to my ankles. I prayed for some sort of intervention, but doubted it would come. His features, the vague ones I could make out, were set grimly.

“So be it.” The blade drew back and suddenly I was being lifted up off of the shoreline.

“Holy mother of pearl,” the cry was torn from my lips as the water that had been at my feet formed into the shape of a great hand. I turned as best as I could in the giant grip hoping to catch a look at my savior.

He was mighty and terrifying, an odd blend of turbulent water and the shape of a man. Atop his head was a dark foam-crested helm and upon his breast was a shimmering silver-green mail.

“It would seem I was right to linger.” The voice was as deep as the oceans and sounded more like the crashing of waves than the speech of a man. I remained in his hand, too flabbergasted by the new events to try to free myself.

The winds diminished and the light waned until all that remained was Oromë in his fleshed form. I realized that the fire had gone out as we had fought and the only illumination came from the light of a large moon.

“Ulmo.” The words were said with the air of a familiar greeting. As if he had not almost driven a sword through my heart mere moments ago. “You do me a disservice for it was not known to me that you still tarried in these waters.”

“Are we not siblings? Was it not my duty to watch over my dear brother as grief befell him and his heart lay broken upon these shores?” Again the roaring of tides blended seamlessly with spoken word. I marveled at the great god of waters. Oromë had been impressive, but Ulmo was indescribable.

“Indeed. Though your interference was unnecessary. Evelyn will find neither ill will nor harm from me. My intent was to test the strength of her heart, nothing more.”

“Forgive my intervention. You have been known to me for many a year and I know well of your temper in grief. There is reason that none hunted the creations of Melkor with greater keenness than you my brother. Betrayal and disappointment weighs most heavily upon your heart.” As Ulmo spoke I processed the words of Oromë and grew angry.

“This was some stupid test.” I leaned my body as far past Ulmo’s fingers as I could in order to yell at the Great Rider. His eyes were amber again, though how I could tell from the height I was at was anybody’s guess. “Ungrateful little wretch. That was a cruel and completely unnecessary trick to play on a woman of my age.” I was grumbling as I turned to face Ulmo. I smile genuinely at him. “Thank you for your timely intervention. Though would you mind placing me down on the ground? I have a dreadful fear of heights you see.” The larger vala rumbled in what appeared to be laughter as he set me back down upon the shore.

“Nienna was well thought in choosing you. A wise champion to aid the children of Eru.” There was kindness in his great big eyes that reminded me of my love for the oceans back in my old world. 

“Thank you. Your aid was very much appreciated and I am very honored that I have been able to meet you. You have been absolutely fabulous, unlike other gods I could mention.” This caused Oromë to let loose a loud laugh, full and belly deep. I turned, some of my ire melting away at the first sign of joy I had seen from him since our meeting.

“You would do well to accept such high praise brother, for though I brought her into this world I have yet to hear words so sweet uttered to me.” I grumbled again at him, though my lips twisted wryly.

“If you give me such a scare again I will show you some not so sweet words that would make Eru blush. Now,” I brushed past him, “ let us rekindle our fire and enjoy the night. It is not everyday that you die and are reborn and I wish to make the most of such an opportunity.” I found Maglor again at the edge of the camp, ever watchful of unfolding events. I reached forward before he could see my intent and grabbed his gloved hand within my own. I pulled him with me to the wooden logs, still smoking heavily. I turned to look over my shoulder. “Are you boys coming? It is a long night still and I’m going to make Maglor teach me how to start a fire.” The Noldorin prince did not protest, merely taking on the role of teacher with a stoic disposition.

And so I spent the rest of the night upon the shores of the sea of Rhûn around a blazing fire in the company of two gods and an exiled prince.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief explanation of concepts that you might not know.
> 
> Fëanor was considered the greatest of the eldar to ever live and was a prince of the Noldor, one of three groups of high-elves. He used the light of the two trees in order to create the three silmarils, jewels of unmatched perfection. These jewels are stolen by Melkor/Morgoth as he escapes from his first imprisonment in Valinor. When the Valar refuse to do anything about it, Fëanor along with his seven sons, swear and oath that nobody will hold the silmarils that aren't of their blood. This oath comes back to bite them in the ass later on. Fëanor rallies the Noldorin elves and rebels against the Valar, leaving Valinor for Middle Earth to retrieve the gems. 
> 
> They go to the Teleri another group of eldar and a sea-faring people to ask for the use of their ships for the voyage. The Telerin refuse since they don't want to upset the valar and a battle ensues. The Teleri are vastly outclassed weapons-wise and in pretty much turns into a slaughter. This is the first kin-slaying that happens because of the quest for the silmarils. 
> 
> Maglor, the second son of Fëanor and one of the greatest musicians and singers to ever exist, wrote a lament about the kin-slaying know as the Noldolantë. Maglor is often shown to be wiser than his siblings and tries on several occasions to get them to give up on their oaths, though he is always dissuaded. In the end he is the only on to survive and throws his silmaril into the sea, walking the shores forever more singing his laments.


	4. A Woman Departs and The Journey Starts

“So, he’s my baby-sitter?” I cocked my hip to the side and stared down my nose at Oromë.

“He is to be your guide.”

“Eh, tomato to-mah-to. I wasn’t really expecting help. I sort of thought that you would just give me some magical objects, vague instructions, and send me on my way.” My tone was matter of fact. That was the pattern after all. What fun was a hero when they were given all of the knowledge in the beginning? Heaven forbid there wasn’t some cryptic and thoroughly misleading information also thrown into the mix.

“What purpose would it serve to bring you so far and deny you the necessary tools for your success? This is the fate of an entire world. There is no time for such obfuscation.” He made a good point and I didn’t really want to muddle my way through if I could have some help. I turned to Maglor.

“What do you get out of this?” He met my eyes with the nobility of a prince and the humility of a pauper.

“The evils brought about by my hands were great and this is but one small good that can be done in repentance.” I squinted my eyes shrewdly at him. I sighed softly.

“If that is your choice then the help will be very much appreciated. I can’t say that my previous life made me good at surviving in the wilds.” He nodded his assent. I turned back to Oromë. “Hey, I’ve been wondering something. How am I understanding all of you? I’m like ninety-five percent sure that Westron was a distinct language from English?” I turned back to Maglor and dropped my voice into a faked hush tone. “That’s statistically confident.” He didn’t react and I found myself wanting to pout.

“The robes that you are wearing are imbued with runes that allow for you to understand and speak the languages of this world. As the words gain familiarity the magic shall fade and the language will be truly learnt. This ability will disappear when you are not wearing the robes. Keep them safe.”

“How fantastically sneaky.” I was grinning as another piece fell into place. How could you send five men into the east with only the languages of Valinor and expect them to give advice? Making them learn all of the different languages before intervening would be time consuming. Magic language abilities made so much more sense. “Whelp any other helpful items you want to throw my way or is this where we part? I know you guys don’t like giving the impression that you’re infringing upon our free will and what not.”

“Indeed, though for you I have taken liberties.” He reached down and grabbed the horn from his hip letting loose one sharp note. At first there was nothing, but then a white dot came into the view against the horizon. I watched as the shape became distinguishable. The animal was the brightest white I had ever seen with strong muscled legs that could no doubt carry great burdens over even greater distances. It came to a stop in front of Oromë, nibbling softly at his tunic. He reached up to scratch between the animal’s ears and expansive horns. The large steer, easily the height of a tall man at the shoulder, was the biggest bovine I had ever seen. It was an enormous creature with clear, intelligent eyes.

“A Kine of Araw?” The wide white horns, stretching out with the breadth of antlers, invoked an image of another horn I had read of that had been sliced in two.

“He is called Turcomund. He is my gift to you, a worthy companion of unmatchable strength and loyalty. He shall serve you well as you travel the East. His nature is better suited for the terrain you shall be traveling.” I held out a hand and let him snuffle at it. His great snout pushed forward and I scratched under the beasts chin.

“It is oft forgotten that I was not only the hunter. Once I was also a shepherd and my flock was tended with care. You are now of my flock and I shall care for you as my own, never forget this.” I nodded at the words. “There is one other gift.”

He turned to face towards the water where Ulmo stood. Within his mighty hands was a staff. I found my feet walking forward without my direction. It seemed almost ordinary. There was no magical pull to it, no appeal besides my knowledge of what it was. He handed the scepter down into my waiting grasp. Finally with it in my hands something shifted and I could fathom that this whole time I had been hollow. Now I was complete. The staff was crafted from a length of beautiful silver lightwood, I was hard pressed to guess the actual species, but I knew that it was strong. It was topped with a rough-hewn stone nestled amongst twisting branches. The gem was a myriad of blue tones with flecks of golden silver spattered throughout. A piece branched off dipping into a small hook just below the stone.

“I…” Words failed me as a looked up at him. The world spun for a moment as my fingers closed possessively around the staff. This was real. A nervous energy coursed through me. I inhaled deeply hoping to quell the feverish energy that was choking my throat. I slide my hands down the length and swung the staff experimentally. “I could definitely knock out some idiots with this.” I think they might have expected something more profound, but I was incapable at the moment. It was humor or tears and I had long ago decided to always choose the former.

“Perhaps it would be wise to limit such action to the legions of Sauron.” There was a bit of mirth in his tone and I could see a small crinkle at his eyes.

“Nah, I’m an equal opportunity whacker. Doesn’t matter what race. You’re being a dumbass you get a swift thump on the noggin.”

“Your words are strange though your meaning seems clear. I will leave such matters to your judgment.”

“A wise decision.” I smiled at him. It was a carefree smile, unburdened.

“I wish you luck on your journey, Evelyn McNamara.” Tear rose to my eyes, though I held them at bay.

“I told you to just call me Evelyn.” I surged forward, throwing my arms around Oromë in a hug. “ Thank you for this adventure.” It was a soft whisper, intimate.

“You have my gratitude for choosing this world.” His voice was equal to mine in tone and volume. I inhaled the soft smell of forest that clung to him as his arms wrapped gently around me.

“There wasn’t a choice. I would have never said no.” I pulled away with a grin that was reflected back at me. “But I think you knew that.” I looked over at Maglor and noticed a medium sized lantern held loosely in his grip. It was made out of a blend of flawless crystal and fine metal the color of platinum. Intricate blocky runes were etched into the metal bits and the facets of the crystal gleamed. It was stunning and perhaps the most beautiful creation I had ever seen. It held no flame within it, but that did nothing to detract from the exquisiteness. He stepped forward and hung the lamp on the hook. “Is that...” I trailed off unsure of what I actually trying to say.

“It is the lamp that carried your flame from the West to the East. Fashioned by Aule and borne by Nienna. It will lead you well in the days to come. It is rife with runes of protection. A light to guide you as you travel forth into shadow.” Ulmo’s voice boomed across the shore.

With the lamp on my staff as well as Maglor and Turcomund at my side this whole endeavor seemed much more doable. I had been given the resources, now I just need the will and the heart to see this through. Maglor lifted me onto the back of the Kine. He remained on the ground and gently encouraged Turcomund north. I glanced back over my shoulder to wave one final goodbye to the two gods, but all that remained was an empty shoreline.

Our first day of travel was spent in silence. I was positively enraptured with this new world. So many things were similar. The sight of birds being flushed from the grasses, disturbed by our lumbering approach was one. The smell of salt on the air that followed after us from the shores of Rhun was another. But for every similarity I thought I found there was something different from it. The birdcalls were a trilling melody I had never heard before. The fragrance that the grasses gave off was sweet, reminding me vaguely of alfalfa, but it had a spicy undertone I was at a loss to place.

It all culminated into the overwhelming feeling that I was not home anymore. It made me sad, but also a small part of me was happy. I had a family that I loved, but as I had been lying on my deathbed there was little that held me to that world. I had been ready to leave it. This new world was full of possibilities I could have only dreamed of and I was ready for such an adventure.

At midday I was handed a strip of salted meat and a piece of some sort of bread. My interest was peaked.

“Is this lembas?” I had always wondered what the famed travel food would taste like. Maglor shook his head.

“No, it is hardtack, a food of Men. The realms of the eldar are barred to one such as I and Lembas is guarded with jealous zeal outside of their borders.” My heart sank a little. I pushed the disappointment out of my voice at the revelation.

“Oh. Well thank you regardless.” He nodded and turned forward again. I was beginning to fear that he was the strong silent type. I eyed the lump of flour that was crusty and hard only taking a bite when my stomach began to gurgle. I ate it gingerly, pausing to drink from my water skin in hopes of softening the toughness. It didn’t help. We continued onward and soon the sun began to set.

The sky darkened and the stars glistened in overwhelming numbers. I leaned backwards against the pure white hair of Turcomund and marveled at the cosmos. It was much easier to ignore the burning in my thighs and the numbness of my rear if I was watching the stars. I refused to move as we came to a stop. The sight was too breathtaking.

“You have much love for the last light of Telperion.” It was the first time that Maglor had spoken to me without some sort of prompting. I pushed myself up and turned to look at him.

“The what now?”

“The stars.”

“Oh! Yes. Stars! Yes, I do. Where I came from you can’t see the stars nearly as well. There are too many people, too many lights. Lots of stuff back there. It fills up all of the space and leaves barely anything to see. You can see some, the brightest, but it’s not like this. I mean you can find places where you can see them, but they tend to be very few and far between.” I swung my legs so that I could slide down off of the oxen. I stumbled on the hem of my new robes as I landed. I righted myself with minimal embarrassment. “Do you?” His blue eyes held a moment of piercing lucidity as he finally made true eye contact.

“I…” His words seemed to momentarily fail him as he tipped his head upward and took in the night. I waited patiently hoping to coax more than polite information out of him. “I do not know.” His brow furrowed a bit.

“You don’t know?” He met my questioning gaze and answered in measured words.

“There was a time I would have answered yes without hesitatiom and I could have composed for you the most beautiful lay to honor the beauty of the starlight. I once looked upon the gifts of Varda with great wonder, as all of my kin were wont to do. Alas, the memories of my youth grow dim, though I know not if it is age or my own heart willing it so. Such memories bring only pain. Now I look upon the last remnants of Telperion, shining bright in the sky, and I can only feel...” He trailed off again eyes fading. The silence grew and I found myself having to prod at him to continue.

“You can only feel…?” The question startled him and for a brief moment he looked utterly shocked. It diminished and he regained a semblance of composure. My heart broke at the faint hint of embarrassment in his tone.

“I beg your forgiveness. Long have I walked the shores of Arda with naught but my grief for company. I was unable to fade for the doom of Mandos barred such a blessing from my torment. I was half mad when Nienna found me traveling the shores of the western ocean. Upon the sight of her I found clarity after two ages of darkness. Though my thoughts have gained focus there are still moments where I find I am not who I once was.”

“I cannot begin to imagine the heartache of what you endured.”

“I do not deserve your pity.”

“Good. Because I’m not giving you pity. I’m offering you compassion. It is mine to give and only I am allowed to decide who is and isn’t worthy of receiving it.” I fixed him with my strongest, most grandmotherly stare. It was a look that had taken decades to perfect and brooked no argument. The corner of his mouth pulled upward softly.

“When I look upon you I often see someone else. It brings me comfort.” I glowed returning that tiny upturn with all of the warmth in my heart.

“Who do you see when you look at me?”

“It is not always that I see him. However, there are moments, brief glimpses where Maedhros looks out upon me through your gaze.” I placed a hand over my heart and bowed slightly over it.

“I’m honored.” He turned away at my words, his dark hair falling across his eyes obscuring them from view.

“You should not be. His fate was one of doom.”

“Ah, but the life he lived before that end was one of greatness. I can only hope that I too would impact the world so greatly before my death, whatever it might be.”

“Such words should not be spoken so lightly.” There was a heat in his voice that I had never heard before. He was angry with me. “Greatness is of no comfort to those that are left behind.” I paused feeling chastised by the elf. It was easy to forget that the character that I had loved from afar was someone that Maglor had grown up with and cherished for ages. Maedhros had been his brother and his fate had been gruesome. Words that I hoped would offer comfort had only offered pain.

“I apologize. You are right.” Maglor tipped his head to acknowledge my apology, but he said no more. We spent the night in silence. It seemed that this new world was more complicated to navigate than I had originally thought.


End file.
